


you'll never fumigate the demons

by chalmskinn



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Domestic, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4721825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalmskinn/pseuds/chalmskinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Music plays softly from the phone, and it’s either the witty and poetic indie music he finds enjoyable, or the detestable hip hop that definitely makes him feel his age, deep to his bones, in the roots of his greying hair. “You alright, Harry?”</i>
</p>
<p>Sleep is hard to come by when your thoughts aren't your own, or you're on your own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll never fumigate the demons

**Author's Note:**

> title and intro lyrics from 'you're my waterloo' by the libertines.

_You’ll never fumigate the demons, no matter how much you smoke, so just say you love me, for three good reasons, and I’ll throw you the rope;  
You don’t need it, cause you are the survivor, of more than one life, and you’re the only lover I had, who ever slept with a knife._

 

The curtains around the bed are drawn, except for a slim gap that blows in the cool autumn breeze. The clock ticks from the mantelpiece, a steady thing, trustworthy and constant, in comparison to his heart, which beats quick and fast as he is surrounded by darkness, with an unoccupied dip in the mattress where a warm body had just escaped. He rolls face forward into the stack of pillows to his left, and breathes in the cigarette smoke, detergent, and Private Blend scent of his lover, removing himself from under the covers, and opening the curtains, to squint at the full moon looming bright and wide outside the open windows. He turns the bedside light on, and fuzzily walks over to his table, and pushes his regular old prescription glasses to the bridge of his nose, and pulls his tatty red bathrobe across his cold shoulders, kissed by the breeze, and ties at the waist.

The lights downstairs are off, so he assumes that an iPhone torch has guided his lover down the steep, creaking stairs, but having lived in the house himself for over thirty years, the wallpaper is more than enough to help him make his way down, where a candle, and a cigarette burn in the cushioned bay window overlooking the garden. Music plays softly from the phone, and it’s either the witty and poetic indie music he finds enjoyable, or the detestable hip hop that definitely makes him feel his age, deep to his bones, in the roots of his greying hair. “You alright, Harry?” He’s asked, as he switches on a dim table lamp. He raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, and quirks the corner of his thin lips. “Why you up?” The carpet is soft against his feet, and he sits to the left of Eggsy and is greeted with ‘ _eight doobies to the face, fuck that_ ’, and Eggsy picks his phone up and skips tracks until Vera Lynn assures them that they’ll meet again, he glares at the boy, anticipating the insult. “This bring back bad memories of the Blitz, old man? Soz, mate.”

“Fuck off, you little shit.” He nudges the younger man with his shoulder, and they laugh. Eggsy traces the veins on his hand with his free fingers, “I’m worried about you, my sweet boy. Why are you awake at this hour?” A head drops onto his shoulder, and he smells of Silk Cut cigarettes, chained smoked, shampoo, Head and Shoulders Apple, and his aftershave, brand name, mass produced, but familiar, and welcome. Eggsy drops a kiss onto Harry’s exposed collarbone, and shrugs.

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I heard somethin’, innit.”

Harry holds him close, and the boy snuffs the cigarette out in the crystal ashtray, a switchblade dropping out of the sleeve of his ancient Adidas hoodie. Eggsy looks down as Harry reaches out to gently take the knife from his open palm, “The plumbing’s fucking pre-historic, it was most probably the arthritic pipes rattling with age. Or that bloody daft creature of yours padding around.” He places a kiss atop the blond mess of damp hair, “does that give you some peace of mind, my love?”

The reply is muffled into his neck, but feels like a no. Harry jabs him with his elbow lightly to the stomach. “You ain’t allowed to leave again, you get me? The target above your ‘ead is even bigger than before, and I know it’s just fuckin’ business, but so was Kentucky, yeah? If you let yourself get shot in the head again, I’m comin’ straight after you.”

He chuckles darkly, “What, to Bucharest? Or are you hopping into my velvet lined, mahogany coffin as my plus one?” Eggsy pulls out of the embrace, and takes the knife from his hand, flicking the blade up.

“This isn’t a joking matter, you wanker. I’m trying to be fuckin’ real with you, Harry.”

His nostrils flare a little, and Harry breathes deeply, “Oh, don’t be so shitting melodramatic, Eggsy. It’s Arthur business, I’ll sign the papers, drink a little bit, mingle, and then I’ll be back here, with you, and your knife, and the pug.” Eggsy begins to light another cigarette, and it is snatched from his fingers, “Don’t. Be good to your lungs, dear boy.” Harry lights the cigarette, and inhales deeply, rolling his eyes at the glare he receives, “It’s too late for me.” He frowns, and puts the cigarette out, “I’m back in 1996 and I still don’t like it.”

Eggsy stands, and flicks him on the scar above his left eye, “You prick, I could have smoked that.” He winces, “I’m going to bed.”

His eyes roll again, “Like you should be.” Harry follows him, and flicks off the light, guiding his lover with a hand to the small of his back, gentle and reassuring. The blade snicks back into its leather casing, and Harry places a kiss to the dip between Eggsy’s shoulder blades, where his pulse is constant, and steady.

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first foray into this fandom, but i really wanted to use these lyrics as a prompt for something and i wanted to branch out from the mcu!!! i hope it was okay, man!
> 
> lyrics from ['you're my waterloo' by the libertines](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQN_dlUKtsg) and ['adhd' by kendrick lamar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MBz2tpAcEk).
> 
> thanks for reading!!! :*


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